by RD Gupta
*
Times Square
New York City
As Jarrod and Sarah walked down Seventh Avenue, the bright lights of New York brought them back to some sense of normalcy. People were going to shows and eating hot dogs and pretzels from street vendors, and tourists shopping until they dropped which was often induced by the lure of the Big Apple. Everything seemed right again. As they stood in the square looking to duck into Jarrod’s favorite restaurant and enjoy a wonderful evening, they both felt their cell phones buzzing. They looked at each other, laughing.
“OK. We both really need to turn our phones off.” Jarrod said. Sarah agreed with a smile. As they both took their phones out, the headlines changed on a number of digital signs. Everyone around them stopped too. Thousands of people were frozen in time on Times Square affixing their attention to the news ticker that flashed around the building that read:
Possible nuclear detonation in Iran with 100,000 feared dead or exposed to radiation.
Jarrod in shock looked at his phone. It was Sergei sending him a message. “Boss, oil now above $100 per barrel in European markets. Iran nuclear explosion.”
Sarah took a quick look at her phone. “The station director wants us at HQ in two hours. They think this was orchestrated and somehow related.” She continued to scan her phone. “And surveillance indicates a major attack by Iran on Abqaiq may be imminent.”
“Abqaiq, the refinery in Saudi Arabia? That would cripple supply across the globe for months, if not years.”
“Yes,” Sarah responded as she furiously texted. “I need to help stop this.”
“No. We need to help stop this,” Jarrod said as walked toward the street to hail a cab to the airport.
In the process, he walked past a ragged panhandler sitting on the sidewalk, a tin cup in hand and seemingly unaware of the breaking news. He stopped for a split second and recognized him as the same homeless man he’d seen weeks before in front of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. Jarrod started reaching into his pocket, but then changed his mind. He quickly peeled off his watch and dropped it in the cup, causing a loud clang. The panhandler opened his eyes as wide as he could muster looking Jarrod straight in the eye.
Jarrod gave him a subtle nod. “I won’t be needing this where I’m going. It’s yours.”
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